


Count Me With The Dreamers

by MagpieMorality



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Englishisms may abound, Fantasy Typical Violence, Fighting, I couldn't come up with anything clever that's why, I hit 10k and decided it was time to start posting this, Injury, King!Thomas, Mild Swearing, Negative reactions to crowds, Not Beta Read, Not historical in any way, Past Abuse, Personal servant?, Poverty, Royal Advisor!Logan, Royal Aide!Patton, Social Anxiety, Some chapters written ahead, Tags May Change, Usual fantasy adventure tags apply, Virgil is there too, WIP, Why?, based on an animatic, hard times, knight!roman, mention of animal cruelty, mild depression, not historically accurate, ships may change - Freeform, that kind of thing, the horse doesn't have a name, what do you even call that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieMorality/pseuds/MagpieMorality
Summary: In a distant prosperous kingdom, King Thomas works hard day by day to maintain peace and good fortune among his people, helped by his closest friend and confidant Patton, and his most trusted advisor Logan;From a far corner of the kingdom a knight-to-be rides to prove himself to the King, picking up an unexpected companion along the way that might muddy the clarity of the path ahead of him;And not quite far away enough, an old darkness is getting ready to start a journey of it's own... back to the city it once called home.Will the King and his companions be ready when it comes?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue

Feet pounded on the cobblestones that lined the roads leading out of the castle. The panting of breath was quickly drowned out by a growing clatter of hooves and the shouting of pursuers, and the figure was forced to put on an extra spurt of speed to get through the portcullis, seeing the tree line just up ahead; so close he could sense the freedom as it rushed towards him…

For one awful second the sound of the horses seemed to swell and overtake him but then, with a final desperate push, using reserves he didn’t know he had, the figure vanished into the dark woods and the horses were forced to slow, riders dismounting to continue the hunt on foot.

They were too slow, and their quarry made off into the night. As they turned to admit defeat and return to the castle, the figure tripped and fell down a bank, rolling and collapsing in a heap at the bottom, freezing totally still with ears straining until he was certain he was no longer being followed.

With a soft whimper the figure went limp, closing his eyes in relief and misery and exhaustion. The ground was cool on the hot stinging wound that sliced his cheek, and soft cradled his sore muscles, and just before he fell into a deep sleep, he had one final clear thought;

Somehow, someday he would have his retribution. He would return to the castle.

One way or another.

* * *

The young Prince Thomas paced the throne room back at the castle, waving off the assurances of the guards that he wouldn’t be troubled by the individual again. His heart told him the truth however, which was that a plan had not been foiled tonight but merely stalled. His father still lay unconscious in his bed with the doctors fussing around with their frowns and uncertain words, and he couldn’t quite shake the memory of the glint of yellow eyes and a too-sweet smile.

He cast a wary, forlorn glance at the dark petal lying innocently on the plush red carpet, before squaring his shoulders and turning to the throne. How naive he’d been before, just a child living in a golden world of safety and goodness. How much pure belief he'd had in the honeyed words of everyone who surrounded him. What a fool he'd been to trust so easily…

The kingdom awaited him now; it needed him to grow up and step up. The plan hadn’t worked, and it was up to him to keep guard. He wouldn’t forget this lesson so long as he was alive and he vowed to always protect his kingdom from the evils that he now knew coveted it.

One way or another.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the castle, many years later.
> 
> Logan takes things seriously; Patton is a proud parent to his royal son; Thomas tries to make a new friend.
> 
> And something is out there...

As a child Thomas had rarely been seen sporting anything less than the brightest of smiles, as though the pure, unfiltered _joy_ of living was constantly spilling over and out of him and into the world he danced through. He'd been known throughout his kingdom (and indeed throughout several others) as the Sunbeam Prince, and every last citizen had been delighted to see such a sweet child in line to be their next ruler, praising his upbringing and sensitivity to the lives of the people who surrounded him. The King himself was well liked, which hardly hurt matters, and had been congratulated many times over for his kindness, especially following the death of his spouse. 

The entire kingdom had grieved with Thomas when he'd lost his remaining parent at that tender age when boyishness was not yet lost to adulthood. They had wept the tears that Thomas was unwilling to let fall in public for him, and had kept the flame of hope and determination going while he found his feet. No one knew the true story of how the previous King had fallen so suddenly unwell, but it had taken less than three days for him to succumb to whatever ailed him (injuries, _terrible_ injuries, forever branded in Thomas' mind's eye). 

Since the funeral and subsequent coronation (it had been far too soon, Patton always said with a sad shake of his head), the young King had been no less quick to smile, but equally swift to frown, and the uptick of his lips in merriment didn't quite come with the same innocent starry-eyed wonder it used to; the burdens of running a kingdom forced upon him at such a young age had not left much time for gradual learning and maturing. There was uncertainty too, and anger and despair, but those were kept behind the strict boundary of the door to his inner chambers where they would never be seen and used against him. Betrayal tended to leave invisible scars like that...

And before long King Thomas turned out to be a fine ruler, despite the circumstances of his ascension. He was honest and fair, and loyal to his subjects beyond all else. The kingdom may not have exactly _prospered_ in the first few years after their young King had been crowned, but there was always a sense of stability that nourished peace among the people, growing steadily year upon year.

And that selfsame peace grew in Thomas' heart as well; as his people survived winter after winter; as his borders and court remained unsullied by plots or deceivers; as he was proven time and time again to be up to the challenges he faced. He forever considered himself lucky that he had yet to have to test the limits of what he would be willing to do in the event of a larger threat such as war.

So while he might never again be the Sunbeam Prince the people remembered so fondly; he could at least be proud to be their very own King Thomas, good and kind, protector of all.

It wasn't a bad trade.

* * *

"I'd like it very much if you could just tell me good things, Master Logan," the King sighed, leaning back in his throne and rubbing the spot between his eyebrows that had such a tendency to ache at this time of evening. He liked to think of it as his signal to be done for the day, and longed to follow it's directive more often than he was able. Which was almost never- the work of a King was rarely done in time for an early night's rest after all...

The man in question stopped pacing back and forth over the rich red carpet in front of him, looking up from his scrolls with a frown and adjusting his glasses. "But that would be entirely dishonest of me, sire. Of course, if I only had good things to tell you then I would oblige, but-"

"I know! I know," Thomas interrupted swiftly with a rueful smile. He was still getting used to Logan's incredibly literal way of seeing the world, and he was just a smidge too tired to endure the well-meant lecture about the inappropriateness of being deceived by one's closest staff. "You're quite right, Master Logan, I beg you to please forgive my fancifulness, it was just an idle thought that slipped my tongue." He sat up straight again, hands folding together neatly in his lap. "Do continue."

His chief advisor frowned a second longer before dismissing the sentiment and doing as he was asked, continuing to read from the list of reports that came every day from all the various areas of the kingdom. There was, as usual, nothing particularly worrying to deal with, but there were just so many small complicated issues that always added up to make Thomas want to go for a long ride by himself or hide under his cloak like a little boy pretending he was invisible until it all went away.

When the duties of the day were at last done with (and the kingdom was no longer in jeopardy of crumbling due to a shortage of oak for the booming carpentry industry) Thomas allowed himself a smile, shoulders relaxing visibly. Logan eyed him but didn't say anything, adding final touches to the missives that were to be sent out the next morning as per his King's demand.

"You know Master Logan," Thomas said, standing up with a yawn and a stretch, "We've been doing this every evening for what; four, five months now since you replaced your teacher?"

Logan blinked and tilted his head incrementally as he thought for a second. "Four months and three weeks," he supplied. "And a day, I believe, although I confess I haven't been-"

"No no, don't worry about the fine details!" Thomas laughed, moving to reassure him (and cut him off preemptively, he really did _know_ Logan by now) with a hand on the shoulder. Logan frowned at him again. It was his second most common expression next to calm seriousness. "But sire, that is my job."

Inwardly the King sighed, but outwardly he managed a friendly smile. "I know, Master Logan. But in some things the details are less important than others." He hurried to continue before that little nugget could be processed and probably hotly contested... "And in this case I'm trying to make a point. It's not even been half a year and already I find myself relying on you far more than I ever relied on your predecessor. I wanted to say thank you. You have proven to be highly trustworthy and dependable. I feel we make a great team, you and I." The advisor was blessed with a bright grin, and another clap to the shoulder.

"Ah, I, well… I don't- that is I _do_ agree, but I- oh goodness I just-" Logan stammered. Thomas chuckled and made for the door that would take him out to his own private corridor, leaving the advisor in a bit of a fluster trying to contain himself. "No need, Logan, I understand!" He called back over his shoulder as he opened the door, and turned away before he could see the Master blush and flap his hands slightly in something akin to glee.

Logan was just calming down, settling himself with a clearing of his throat and a tug to straighten his clothes, when the King's personal aide wandered in with a veritable mountain of fabrics in his arms. He was clearly struggling under the cumbersome load and Logan stepped in to help before he tripped on a trailing piece of blue velvet, helping him lay everything down on the heavy wooden table in the centre of the room. So much for the calm composure he'd just regained- here was another man who could quite easily be his undoing. 

"Oh thank you _ever_ so much, Master Logan, you're too kind!" The aide, Patton, thanked him, beaming sunnily at Logan who promptly melted into an unintelligible mess, huffing and nodding instead of being able to actually, you know, _speak_. Ugh. Luckily for him Patton hadn't noticed, too busy sorting the various bundles into something easier to carry and chattering away to himself all the while as he was wont to do. 

"It really is such a shame his majesty couldn't come to the fitting today, the tailor was dreadfully disappointed not to get the chance to have a nice chat! I _did_ say we should rearrange but Thomas was _so_ adamant that I would be perfectly fine to go in his place but then of course how am I to know which fabric to choose because I mean _look_ at them they're all gorgeous! And I- " He stopped, considering the advisor stood there with empty arms, and the bulk laid out neatly on the table. "Master Logan, would you be a dear and help for a moment?" Logan of course agreed instantly, and found himself promptly loaded with half of the piles. 

"Am I to infer that you're taking this to the King?" He asked when Patton had managed to grab his own half.

Patton nodded, another blinding smile tossed his way stunning Logan temporarily dizzy. "Absolutely. It's imperative he looks his best you know, image is _so_ important! And he does secretly love new clothes; it would be entirely unfair of me to take away his chance to pick something he really feels good in. I've actually been trying to convince him to try that hair colouring fashion- you know the one?- but he's _ever_ so concerned about what people will think about the frivolity of it and-"

"Well that's quite unfounded, the people think he's wonderful and would continue to do so. What logical impact would the colour of his hair have on anything?" said Logan, glancing over at the other man.

" _Exactly_! But you know Thomas. Oh I forget- you've only been his advisor for a few months!" Patton gasped. "But you'll learn, he's such a sweetie, we all-" He broke off with a soft muttered curse (that Logan knew was actually barely a curse at all, because Patton objected to strong language quite firmly) when he nearly walked into the throne as he rounded the table, barely able to see past the bundle in his arms. "We all love him."

Logan resettled the weight of his own pile into one arm and nabbed another bundle of fabric off the top of Patton's to help out, locking his knees to combat the weakness that plagued him when Patton gave him _yet another bright smile_. "The King does seem incredibly generous. And fair- he listens. I do appreciate that an awful lot," he finished quietly, pushing open the door Thomas had recently vanished through for Patton and following him into the quiet, cosy corridor on the other side towards the King's room. "It's quite a rare delight to be truly heard."

Patton looked at the advisor with a knowing, soft expression. "It really is, isn't it?" He agreed quietly.

They stopped before the door to Thomas' room, and turned to one another. "Well, I must take these in, thank you for your help Master Logan," Patton said, inclining his head slightly. Logan puffed out his chest at the thanks and nodded seriously, with as much dignity as he could muster (willing away the blush threatening to glow on his cheeks). "It was no problem at all. Here;" he very carefully placed his armful of fabrics on top of Patton's and knocked on the door for him. "And please; call me Logan."

With a neat, graceful bow (praying the whole time not to lose his balance), the advisor bid the aide goodbye and made his escape. Patton watched him with a broad smile, before the door was opened and he headed into the room with a cheerful greeting on his lips and a sparkle in his eye.

* * *

While Logan was taking the missives away to be sent out, and Patton was busy gushing over the various fabrics he'd brought for Thomas to choose from (and Thomas was trying very hard to listen attentively and not give in to the urge to yawn); just outside the castle walls a guard was focusing hard on the darkness, pike held defensively out in front of them.

"Who's there?!" They called, trying to stop the shake of their voice. "Friend or foe?!"

There was no reply from the darkness, and an unnatural stillness hung over the area as the guard stepped forwards a few paces. There was definitely something out there, something deep within the shadows. But what was it? Where was it?

Their eyes spotted a tiny disturbance in the darkness; something had changed, they were sure of it.

They moved closer again, tightening their grip on their weapon as they strained to see what it was that had caught their eye. They got nearer and nearer and nearer until at last in the darkness the abnormality suddenly became much clearer.

_There_. A glint of yellow?! And a flash of white that almost looked like…

… _A smile_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have and always will headcanon Patton with curly white-blond hair and I don't know why, blame the animatic or something! And personal preference but I've not gone super into detail with the descriptions, mainly because you can get those from the animatic that inspired this but also because hey, we all wanna see our own versions of the characters taking part right? Alternative working title for this fic was An Ode To Semicolons and y'all will see why. It's a problem.
> 
> Enjoy all the wild stylistic changes and some unedited mistakes probably hidden within!
> 
> Chapter 2 incoming shortly!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman is heroic; Virgil is suspicious; the horse doesn't yet have a name.
> 
> It's a party in the forest, eh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for cartoon fantasy violence; implied bad living situations; mild kidnapping.

Roman was downright done with trees. Nature in general, in fact, but _especially_ trees.

By the time he was on the last day's stretch of travel through the forest, he'd seen enough of the blasted things to last him through several lifetimes; way more than his fair share! For days on end he'd been surrounded by nothing but green and brown, green and brown, green and more _bloody_ brown; endless foliage and bushes and thrice damned _trees_. They were all starting to blur together weirdly, which really wasn't a great sign for his sanity... 

Six days previously Roman had packed his most precious belongings and a not inconsiderable amount of supplies into his saddlebags, and left home for what he hoped would be a one-way journey. He was making his way south-east to the city that lay at the heart of the kingdom he lived in, on the other side of the forest. With tears and promises a-plenty, the young man had taken to his horse and begun his journey towards the life of glory he was sure awaited him. Ever since he'd first heard the stories, he'd dreamed of being a noble knight; fighting for justice and peace and protecting the good King that ruled them. (He also dreamed of shining swords, swooning grateful citizens and fine silk shirts, but those things were secondary.) 

Years of training and determination had followed, all of which had led up to this final step; he was ready at last. Tall and finally broad enough to no longer resemble a beanpole, with a well-honed and terribly useful skill for swordplay that had even impressed a passing duke's son (who had in return given Roman the final confidence boost that spurred him to leave at long last, among _other_ things), Roman could finally truly _see_ his future. He looked at himself in the water of the pond by his house and grinned to imagine the sight he'd strike in shining armour, foot planted firmly on the back of a heap of defeated villains, sword held high in the air in triumph. Not his current sword of course; that was just an old piece of metal the blacksmith had managed to knock up for him many years back, and was really more suited to use as a club than a sword. No, in his fantasies he pictured the slim, deadly shine of a rapier or the exotic swords from the North of the kingdom. 

His future was going to be glorious indeed. He just hadn't expected the trip to reach it to be quite so _boring_.

Heaving a huge sigh, Roman leaned down to pat his horse on the neck and give her a scratch behind the ears, shifting to try and get more comfortable in the saddle. After almost a week of near-constant riding it seemed there were no unaffected muscles left however, and nothing he tried seemed to relieve the dull ache. Maybe walking would be a good idea for a bit? A change of view couldn't hurt either; maybe he was even missing something from up on the back of the tall destrier. People always talked about how lovely the forest was, didn't they?

Roman hopped down, back popping satisfyingly when he lifted his arms above his head. The trees looked… exactly the same from ground level. Really, Roman didn't know what he'd expected. He groaned, stretching again and twisting with a low moan. Wait no. He hadn't moaned. He hadn't made a noise at all the second time. 

That had come from somewhere else.

After squinting suspiciously at his horse for a long few seconds to ascertain she wasn't the culprit, he gathered the reins in one hand and drew his sword as he made his way cautiously towards the side of the path, peering into the bushes beyond. It wasn't entirely clear where the noise had come from, and he had to stop to strain his ears, wondering if he'd imagined the whole thing. 

Nothing stirred, and Roman started to relax, ready to turn around and write the noise off as unexplained or imaginary. He straightened with a shrug but then noise came _again_ , low and _pained_. This time the horse was promptly left behind, the reins looped hastily over a nearby branch, so Roman could approach alone.

"Hello?" He called, sword held firmly up in his hands. "Is there someone there? Are you hurt?"

"Please…" came a weak, raspy voice. "Help!" Well, Roman was hardly going to ignore that kind of plea; he was aiming to become a glorious, honourable knight, after all. 'Help' rather came with the job description.

The sword was sheathed as Roman hurried further into the foliage, rounding a deep green spiky bush (finally, a little _variation_ ) to see a figure crumpled at the base of a tree. Rushing forwards, he checked the figure over. It was a young man holding his side and whimpering with pain, leg awkwardly extended in front of him. There were dark stains on his clothes, which were ragged and worn; stitched together and patched in numerous places. Under an veritable curtain of hair that fell softly over his face, deep brown eyes gazed at the knight-to-be desperately, only made deeper by the dark bruise-purple bags underneath each one. The poor guy looked rough, and Roman's expression softened in sympathy as he crouched down by him, fighting a wince at the extent of the problem now facing him. "My name's Roman," he said gently, "I'm here to help. What happened? How were you hurt?"

"I-" the young man choked on a wet sounding cough, spitting up red ( _blood!_ ) and leaning his head back against the tree trunk with clear fatigue. His lips moved but barely made a sound, so Roman leaned closer to try and hear him better. "Bandits… surprised me…"

The would-be rescuer's eyes widened at the prospect of a threat still lurking nearby, and his hand was moving to grab his sword from it's sheath at his hip when all of a sudden he found himself unable to move it any further. Glancing down in confusion, Roman saw there were hands on his, gripping vice-tight and stopping him from drawing the weapon. The young man's face was very close when Roman's eyes darted back up to look, and his brown eyes glinted as he smiled.

(Roman, before his brain kicked out of its _???!_ and figured out what had happened, had a moment to note that the smile was unbelievably, _rudely_ gorgeous and utterly _lethal_ when turned on poor unsuspecting passers-by, even if it wasn't particularly _friendly_.)

"… Got me to play the bait this time, and they owe me for it too because this berry juice is going to be hell to get out of my clothes," the man continued in a much stronger tone, voice rich and deep. He raised his volume for the second half of the sentence, looking over Roman's shoulder at what the knight assumed were the (other) bandits and licking the red ( _not_ blood- _berry juice!_ ) away from his lips. Roman mentally added that action to the arsenal of devastating weapons the bandit apparently had at his disposal.

He sighed softly and the young man raised an eyebrow at the odd response, attention back on his target. Roman just cast his eyes upwards. "Honestly, I know this is probably a robbery, but all I can hear is my mother's voice, you know? 'Don't trust strangers Roman! Stay alert Roman! Don't put your sword away Roman! Pretty faces hide the ugliest intentions Roman!' How embarrassing this is, really, she'd be _so_ disappointed…"

The bandit blinked, lips parting in surprise. "You think I'm-"

He was interrupted by the arrival of his friends. Roman heard two heavy sets of footsteps behind, and before they could get any closer he burst into motion.

Roman winked, used the young man's flustered distraction to wrench free of his slackened grasp and turned to face his opponents, sword coming out in his confident grip all in one fluid motion. The two bandits in front of him appeared somewhat stumped by the sudden change in circumstances, and glanced at each other as they hesitated. Both were a fair bit older than the third of their trio, and than Roman, and while they were both lean they also clearly didn't have a lot of muscle. However there were _two_ of them, which they clearly realised at the same moment he did, because they sniggered at one another before running at him in tandem. One raised a heavy wooden club and the other brandished only a blade that was too large to be a knife but not quite as fancy as a dagger.

And now Roman was in his element.

He hadn't chosen to become a knight out of delusions that he was just divinely skilled enough to attain his goal, and he certainly hadn't embarked on his mission to seek out the castle of King Thomas and request admission to his knights without having made absolutely sure he would be good enough to be accepted. He had _years_ of practice behind him.

The bandits indeed took very little effort whatsoever to keep at bay, and he let himself enjoy the stretch and exercise for a bit, revelling in the pound of his heart and certainty of victory. A foot here, twist and parry and flick; not so hard as to disarm, not yet. Now a laughing flourish- showing off really- an insult that ended with a firm slap on the backside as the first staggered past him and the second stumbled over a mossy tree stump he'd clocked whole minutes ago and easily avoided as he circled them.

The third bandit was interestingly _uninterested_ in joining the fight it seemed, because he was just stood by the tree, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted (hopefully in awe at Roman's prowess) as he watched the action unfolding in front of him. When Roman finally grew bored of the fight and sent the other two running off into the woods- ending things with a neat one-two step forwards and a smack that sent the knife spinning off into the distance, following up by catching the club-wielder by the wrist and whispering a 'boo' in his startled face- the younger bandit turned and hurried to follow. Unfortunately for him; he clearly didn't see the stump either, and Roman winced at the yelp and thud he made as his ankle rolled and he fell hard onto the ground.

The forest faded back into relative calm once more, birdsong returning as swiftly as the two bandits had fled. Roman paused to centre himself briefly before turning to the young man the duo had unceremoniously left behind (at least that was what he assumed; the sound of their wild flight away from him had faded far into the distance, but he would keep his senses sharp while the previous ambush was still fresh in his mind). 

Now that he wasn't focusing on perceived injuries or in the middle of a fight, he could scan the third bandit properly. Young man had been right; he looked a little younger than Roman, still slightly coltish in his long limbs, and lean, too lean. 

Oh and _terrified_.

The knight frowned, sheathing his trusty sword and striding over to the fallen man. "Hey, breathe, _breathe_ ," he said, maybe not very _gently_ but certainly not as harsh as he could have been considering the previous events. The bandit did almost the exact opposite of his directive and started wheezing, chest rising and falling faster and faster as panic caught him and held him fast, eyes wide as they stared just past Roman glassily. Roman had seen this once before, during the phase when his mother had thought to try him out apprenticing to the local hedgewitch, a pleasant healing specialist by the name of Talyn. A young villager- recently bereaved- had been reported to be struggling to catch their breath during the wake and had been turning a terrible shade of blue by the time Roman and Talyn had been called to help. The young apprentice had watched as the hedgewitch sat with the villager, taking their patient's hand to press against their own chest, instructing the panicking individual to use the motion breathe with them, until their mind stopped convincing them they couldn't get enough air. Talyn had taught him more than just that, but right now it was this particular skill Roman was mentally sending them thanks for.

"Breathe with me, okay?" He said, hands open and slow as he reached forwards to take the young man's. He pulled it to his chest so the bandit could feel the rise and fall of Roman's lungs under his palm, keeping up their eye contact and concentrating on breathing evenly and calmly, not too slow or too fast. It took a minute, the bandit's wild eyes gradually clearing from their haze, searching his and finding what he hoped was comfort, until finally he started to ease into the rhythm. The man's stiff, high shoulders started to relax, and then in a rush he curled over, sighing softly. Roman inwardly congratulated himself on a job well done, continuing to breathe and watch until the bandit cautiously pulled his hand away from the knight-to-be's chest and peered up at him.

He looked wary (understandably) and Roman made an effort to be as open and unthreatening as possible, giving him a lopsided smile. It just made the bandit squint with even more suspicion.

"What?" Roman asked, grin spreading to the other side of his mouth to match.

"Um, nothing?" The bandit replied. "No _wait_ , yes- something! What was that?! What's going on?" He scowled, nose wrinkling slightly. Roman just chuckled, sitting back on the ground and loosely grasping his knees. He shrugged.

"I think you had what's called an attack of panic?" suggested the knight, tilting his head. "Is that your fir-"

"No, no I know what _that_ was," came the swift, irritated interruption. "But… you _helped_. You fixed it. And you… but I… Um." His confusion was only adding fuel to the case Roman was internally building disproving he was really a bad guy. Just a skinny young man, swiftly abandoned by his… colleagues? Afraid of kindness, or at the very least highly dubious of the intentions behind kind actions. All that and his clothes... It painted a sympathetic picture. "You should be ang- _ouch_!" The bandit hissed as he shifted and jostled his ankle. Roman's attention was brought back to the injury and he glanced at the young man in warning before reaching out to assess the damage.

It was bruised and starting to swell, and without anything particularly cold to wrap the joint with it would balloon to twice the size before long. There was no way the man could walk on it, let alone catch up with the cowardly duo Roman had sent packing, and the knight could see him realising the same thing with a few swift, darting glances around. "Shit," the bandit muttered with feeling, visibly drooping. Roman nodded in sympathy.

"That sucks, really," he tried to say supportively, but the nasty look he was shot indicated maybe it hadn't come off particularly well. "No I mean," he sighed and tried again. "Look, I've got a horse. I'm heading for the city, and I have rations left- honestly _so_ many rations, my mother packed enough for a month I swear-"

The bandit just looked confused.

"I've got a horse? That you can ride?" Roman repeated himself. 

"Yeah no, I know what a horse is thanks. But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why am I riding it?" The baffled question made Roman laugh. He stood up, holding his hands out. When the bandit didn't take them he rolled his eyes, fixing him with an exasperated look. "You can't stay here, so you'll come with me. I thought that was obvious enough."

Well, that was rude; the bandit's disbelieving laughter scared off some of the birds that had started to come back. Roman wrinkled his nose. "I'm not joking," he clarified, and the laughter died as suddenly as it had come. "I'm really not!"

"Look buddy," the young man started, "there is no way in hell I'm going with you. I'll just sit here and- and..." he paused, thinking hard, and had just opened his mouth to come up with something to say when he was derailed by a shout of surprise as Roman bent to sweep him up over his shoulder, marching back towards the path. "Hey! Put me down!" The man protested hotly, wriggling a bit in his hold. It felt like a token struggle to Roman, who was pretty sure even with his injury the bandit could had broken loose without a problem, but he didn't have much to compare it with (he didn't exactly make a habit of carting off not-so-bad-bandits for the good of their own health).

"This is so undignified!" The bandit cried, as Roman (carefully) dumped him on the horse's back. And yet even as he said it he was swinging his leg over to seat properly in the saddle, folding his arms with a pout and glaring in the opposite direction of his rescuer slash kidnapper. He really couldn't be accused of trying very hard to get away, Roman thought to himself. He'd seen toddlers struggle harder when forced to take a bath.

And so, in the spirit of things, Roman did the only sensible, mature thing he could and stuck his tongue out in reply as he set to finding his first aid kit and sorting out the man's ankle.

The bandit had the good grace to just look terribly offended, and fell quiet until he was done, mouth staying firmly shut even as they started the journey steadily onwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long one this time, because I did that usual thing of adding in as I was editing, and well- here we are. 
> 
> I actually have split this chapter into the next, in the interest of at least attempting to balance out the character POV's (I failed at that before I began, I've realised). But look Roman is just so poetic and verbose and it's very easy to flesh everything out around him! 
> 
> Next chapter inbound in not too long either, peace out
> 
> -Magpie


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton is The Best TM; Logan is a sweetheart in disguise; and Thomas gets a new project.
> 
> The bandits you probably forgot about make a brief appearance...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mild symptoms of depression (see end notes); mention of animal cruelty

The King was awake. It was far too early but he was, as usual, awake for the sunrise- almost a decade of routine wasn't easily shaken. This morning, however; he sighed heavily, his eyelids feeling like lead weights. It was at times like this that he wished he could just throw a tantrum and refuse to get up, but a King's work was never done and Thomas would never dare complain about his routine just because he was a little bit tired. He eyed the thick curtains that needed to be peeled open, and the crown waiting on it's plinth on his dressing table. Instead of moving right away (like he should have), he huffed and indulged just this once in to the childish urge to be selfish and stay buried in the rich, heavy blankets that always made him feel so comforted at the end of a long day. It seemed it was going to turn out to be one of those days where he needed a little bit of extra help, and there was only one person who he would trust for the job...

"Patton!" Thomas called, waiting for the soft sound of approaching footsteps that heralded his aide arriving through the door linking his own smaller room to the King's. "Sorry to be a bother, I just…"

"Need a bit of assistance?" Patton finished for him, smiling in sympathy. The sun was just rising, and the aide yawned, going over to the main door to ring the bell for breakfast. In a soft murmur he requested a pot of tea and a small pastry. "That's alright, sire, I was just thinking of coming to check on you." Thomas didn't feel any less guilty but he did relax a bit as he finally managed to sit up in bed. "It looks like a lovely morning, shall we watch the sunrise from the balcony?" Patton suggested, easily falling into decision making just as Thomas had hoped, tugging back one of the long curtains covering the doors to the outside.

They took their tea there once Thomas had eventually peeled himself out of bed, limbs heavy and slow. He avoided dressing just yet, but Patton fussed until he wrapped up in a long dressing gown and some very fluffy slippers the aide magicked up from his own room. In return Thomas insisted on sharing the pastry with Patton and his aide demurely refused a token one time before he caved and compromised by halving the pastry with the King. The sunrise was glorious and the day that followed it was indeed lovely as Patton had guessed, and the two men sat in quiet, peaceful companionship as they watched the city wake up before their eyes. The sight made Thomas sigh, full of affection for his home, a small smile finally gracing his lips. "It's quite something, is it not?" He whispered reverently, seeing Patton nod out of the corner of his eye. "I thank the heavens for every day that goes by without my people knowing the horrors of war or poverty. It's all I can ask for."

Patton reached over to pat him fondly on the hand. He squeezed gently before letting go. "You do an _excellent_ job, sire. You are a very beloved King, you know. Your people thrive in the city, and outside too, and we've no threat of war or bad relations to fear from elsewhere. I'd say you've earned the right to ask for a little for yourself as well by now."

Thomas snorted softly at Patton's meaningfully raised eyebrow, turning to give him an affectionate look back. "You flatter me, Pat. I have a job to do, and I must do it until I die and am succeeded. Which…" he sighed, looking down at the cup in his hands before taking a sip. "Have we heard any more news from the uh, secret project?" He asked sheepishly.

The aide sat up with a roll of his eyes. "Honestly sire, it's only you and I here, you can talk freely about it. And no, nothing yet. You did want your messenger to be as subtle as possible when delivering the letter; that sort of thing takes time. And if you'd like my advice, then I would say that bringing Master Logan in on this may in fact help with the entire issue- he has an unusually sharp mind for finding the best solution in any situation. Such a quick thinker, and _always_ looking out for the kingdom-"

"Why Patton, you sound quite infatuated!" Thomas teased him, prompting a blush. Patton spluttered but didn't deny it, turning to his King with an embarrassed grin. It made Thomas' heart warm to see it, even as he sighed internally with a little pinch of jealousy.

"I'm afraid I might be," said his aide. "But don't tease, sire, Master Logan is not really the sort to dabble in affairs of the heart, I'm sure you've noticed that too. But to more important matters! Who will have the last bite?!"

Thomas laughed, pushing the plate over to his aide and best friend. "By all means, my dear lovebird, go right ahead," he winked, turning back out to the city and admiring the way the sunlight cast it in gold, the sandy stones that made up the buildings and walls shining brilliantly in the glory of the oncoming day. 

It was almost, but not _quite_ , as heartwarming as the laugh Patton let out at his teasing nickname. And it was that sound, rather than the sight before him, that made him smile. 

* * *

After the early start, the day picked up pace as usual around mid-morning. That was the time when missives started flying in to get him up to date with the goings on in his kingdom. Logan, who received and passed on these missives as the main bulk of his duties, had quite happily set up residence on a new pacing route when Patton had suggested (after one look at the bags under Thomas' eyes after breakfast) that the King conduct business from the comfort of his private study instead of the throne room for the day. While Thomas wasn't quite as ready as Patton was to let the advisor in on his more _personal_ matters; he _had_ come to trust the man enough to let him into his inner sanctum, knowing he wouldn't use the favouritism as political leverage the way some of his previous advisors may have. And processing the huge bulk of information being delivered in Logan's steady, even tone in the comfort of Thomas' favourite soft chair was definitely a significant improvement on having to spend the day on the throne in the massive grand hall. 

It got draughty in there alright?

"Master Logan, may I remind you again that you are permitted to sit?" Thomas interjected when Logan briefly paused to draw breath between reports. The advisor looked up with a little frown, glanced at his neglected chair, and sat gingerly down on it, only to start bouncing his leg as his mind whirred, processing and sorting all the news of the day from around the kingdom. The sight made Thomas want to roll his eyes in fond exasperation, and he didn't say a word when Logan soon stood up to pace again. It seemed there would be no stopping the man.

It was oddly peaceful watching him in constant motion, something for Thomas to focus on visually while trying to listen to the third complaint in a row about the state of roads outside the Northern gate, or the long winded and flowery explanation of why exactly the border towns were annoyed by the price of cloth. 

"And the- that doesn't seem right," Logan stopped, the abrupt halt in motion catching Thomas' attention before the pause in words did. Logan was shifting through sheets of paper rapidly, until he evidently found what he was looking for and started muttering to himself something about cattle and the numbers forty and seventy six. Eventually whatever was bugging him apparently resolved itself in his mind. "Oh and then the other nineteen must be from the western farm but they haven't done their count until Thursday, that's right, but we can double check if that's not cleared up by-" And the pacing continued.

Patton came in while Logan was still going full speed ahead, raising an eyebrow at Thomas who returned the look with a smothered smile. It was only when Patton cleared his throat, stood patiently waiting by the door with a tray of food and drink, that Logan turned and his words petered out with a soft croak.

How interesting. That certainly didn't hold up to Patton's theory of an unromantically inclined Logan... But more information was needed.

Look; Thomas hadn't had a lot of time to invest in gossip and the goings on of others' lives since becoming King, despite a secretly cultivated (with help of the kitchen staff, gossips extraordinaire that they all were) love for it when he was still Prince. The peacocking political manoeuvring at court hardly counted, not when all the people involved were about as interesting as sawdust and more dramatic than the actors he occasionally got to meet. So when Logan cleared his throat and nearly tripped on the corner of the rug in his haste to bow to Patton and Patton's eyes glittered while he placed the tray down, brushing away imagined creases on his uniform, the King found himself _hooked_. 

He tapped some ink off his quill to break the tension and Logan turned to him, still bowing, straightening quickly when he realised what he was doing. Thomas lifted his eyebrows. "Would you care for some refreshment, Master Logan? I can finish the signatures for the increased flax budget while you take a break. Patton, do be a dear and help Master Logan won't you?"

Patton shot him a look that the King studiously ignored, focusing really _not_ very hard on the stack of papers in front of him as he scrawled his name at the bottom one by one, his ears trained on the conversation taking place on the other side of the room.

Patton (bless his heart) was trying to be a little bit _overly_ helpful, and Logan was… mostly just confused. "No, I _know_ what an olive is, Patton," he was saying, gently but with increasing bewilderment. "I have had one bef- oh yes actually I would like some tea, in fact would y- oh no I don't need milk it's perfectly f- Patton really I can stir it myself…"

Thomas was delighted, truly, and it was only partially selfish; Patton had served him with tireless patience and effort for nearly all of the many long years (gosh how many years was it now? he felt old despite his youth) that he'd already been King. The man was incredibly dear to him; his closest confidant and most trusted friend. Patton had seen Thomas through temper tantrums; grief; frustration and the lowest of his lows. If it was the last thing he did the King would see some of that devotion paid in kind.

"Now Patton I _must_ _insist_!" Thomas tuned back in to hear Logan's gentle but firm voice, watching as the aide abruptly let go of the plate of food they seemed to be having a sort of tug of war over, letting Logan have it. He was clearly flustered by his own out of character behaviour and apologised quickly, avoiding Logan's eyes as he moved on to reposition a vase nearby. "Really, it's quite alright. But thank you," the advisor told him, touching Patton's hand on the vase and stilling his fretful fidgeting. 

Shaking his head, the aide laughed softly, looking at Logan with a shy smile that Thomas noticed was returned just a moment too late for Patton to see it, as he'd turned away too soon. "Goodness I don't know what's got into me! Of course you can hold it yourself I mean… Well I will just go over here and clear these shall I?" He gave Thomas a desperate, pleading look as he escaped to the desk and gathered up an old cup and empty water flagon that sat there. Logan blinked at him once before becoming quickly absorbed by eating and drinking as fast as possible (in order to get back to his duties without further delay probably). He wasn't paying attention to the other two so Patton took the opening to lean over and narrow his eyes at Thomas. "Don't you start meddling now, sire. _I will not stand for meddling_ ," he warned, ignoring the bright, winning grin he was faced with. "I know what you're doing! I'm _serious_! "

And with the threat adequately conveyed, he swept away out of the room and on to his next task, leaving the two men to their work. Logan watched him go, swallowing the last bite of his lunch with hearts in his eyes and nearly spilling the water he tried to sip. 

"So, Master Logan…" Thomas began once he was beyond certain that Patton was no longer in earshot, startling the man slightly (he had generously waited for the cup to be put down, predicting such a reaction). "You're a sharp man- very astute, very good at putting together the pieces of the puzzle, wouldn't you agree?"

Logan looked at him oddly, but nodded. "If it's not too conceited of me to say, sire, I do agree. I believe it's why you allowed me to take over the advisory position?"

"Precisely. Now, Logan, on an _entirely_ unrelated subject; what do you think of Patton?"

"P-Patton?" Logan stammered. Thomas folded his hands beneath his chin and waited patiently. "Well I- he's very _sweet_ , of course, and _very_ efficient." He warmed to his topic quickly. "Efficiency is a highly valuable trait in our line of work, working for you that is sire, and I'm quite sure he could defeat kingdoms if he thought they weren't being run right. He seems to use those powers for good, at least. And- I mean, sorry if I overstep, sire…"

Thomas grinned at the advisor, plans slowly coming into view in his mind. "No need to apologise Logan, not at all. I can't fault anything you say whatsoever. But it _does_ lead me to my next question- you may be interested to know that Patton's birthday is next week, and I intend to do something for him in private, how he prefers. I'm sure he'd love it if you were part of that celebration. Would you like to help me conspire to surprise him?"

Logan's whole self seemed to light up. "Why, yes sire! Surprises need meticulous planning, and I can organise the food and the gifts and the- what does Patton like? Oh goodness I don't even _know_. I don't know him at all! Maybe I'm not such a wonderful conspirator after all, I could certainly only guess at his tastes but-"

"Logan, _Logan_!" Thomas laughed, moving around the desk to the cosier seating in front of the fireplace and catching Logan's shoulder on the way. "Sit with me. I insist this time."

He waited for Logan to tentatively sit, wringing his hands together. "There is no more vital business to be passed on, am I right?" Thomas checked, pleased when the advisor hesitated (because all business was vital really) but thought twice and shook his head. "Then we are quite free to discuss the event! And you'll be delighted to know- I am the foremost expert on Patton. Feel free to fire away!"

For a while after that, Logan's quill didn't stop moving on the parchment quickly fetched, making notes on anything and everything useful. Thomas' voice went a bit hoarse from speaking and answering questions, but couldn't bring himself to regret ignoring Patton's threat because as much as _he_ was enjoying himself; it seemed _Logan_ was even more so.

* * *

That night, in the depths of the woods- long forgotten by the knight who'd beaten them soundly and their unfortunate ex-friend- two bandits were stomping around in the dark. The one who still had his club swung it side to side in a rage, hitting bushes and plants (and one unlucky squirrel) out of the way.

"This is all your fault you miserable git!" He snapped at the other, who just bared their teeth right back at him, before descending into misery again, missing their knife sorely. "I mean it! You let that stupid boy think he was important and you let me be mean to him when you _knew_ he would betray us! That's on y-"

"What was that?" The second bandit interrupted, going pale and stopping dead as their ears caught something odd in the forest ambience. "I heard something. Did you hear that?!"

"Stop changing the subject, idiot! I _know_ you're just- _What was that_?!" The club-wielder whirled around, backing up until he was back to back with the other, both facing out into the darkness around them.

"You heard it too!"

"I heard it! It sounded like..."

They glanced back at each other in the gloom.

Moments later the sound came again; laughter mixing discordantly with the sound of screams. It lasted for a minute until silence abruptly fell, and not a creature stirred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings  
> Depression: Thomas has a low day and struggles to get out of bed, find positivity and energy at first.  
> Animal cruelty: a squirrel is the unfortunate victim of a thump from a club
> 
> Enjoy a filler character interaction chapter! Alternate summary was: Patton is the world's best Dad-friend and Mom-friend simultaneously; Logan gets really into details and Thomas is a middle-aged housewife when it comes to getting involved in other people's love lives. 
> 
> Reminder that this is still un-beta'd!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil is not good with crowds; Roman is a literal knight in figurative shining armour; and the horse still has no name. Sorry horse. 
> 
> AKA The Knight and the Bandit enter the City. It is not the smoothest of rides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of murder and eating people (jokingly); implied poverty/poor living conditions; kidnapping; negative reaction to crowds; injury.

It had been a peaceful hour or two of travel before the bandit finally piped up again, picking at some old scratches in the leather of the pommel where it had come away from the lining. Without looking over at Roman, he cleared his throat.

"Virgil."

"... Excuse me?" The knight asked, not a hundred percent sure what he'd heard.

The bandit winced and looked up at the sky visible between the treetops overhead. "Just- it's Virgil. That's my name. If you were- if you were wondering, y'know? And um, thanks for kidnapping me, I think." He slanted his eyes sideways over at Roman for a brief second, darting them swiftly away again when he saw the knight was looking back at him. "You know, if you don't murder and eat me later on."

That made Roman laugh, and he shook his head. "Why on earth would I bother trying to heal your ankle when I'm just going to eat it? Better pickings there now it's all swollen up, than anywhere else on you," he pointed out, pretending to consider the scenario to play along with Virgil's clear attempt to deflect from his more vulnerable moment of gratitude. Virgil pouted (again, it was adorable) but didn't seem to have quite the impetus to continue the game, although he did cast Roman another glance that was a lot softer than the first. The knight decided he'd take that as as close to an audience reaction as he'd get. 

It was another few minutes before Virgil piped up again. "So we're going to the city then are we?" he asked, and Roman nodded with enthusiasm. "Are you from there?"

"Oh- I've never been!" The knight explained, brimming with excitement. The horse tossed her head slightly in reaction to the sudden buzz of energy, but he stroked her nose and she calmed back down again quickly. "But I heard it's big and bright and beautiful, and just the _best_ place to be!"

Virgil snorted, expression clouding for a moment. Not _exactly_ the response Roman had expected... "Yeah sure, big and bright and beautiful."

The tone made Roman eye him curiously. "You don't agree?"

"No, not really. It's big alright; but more of the _bad_ and _brainless_ variety. Bunch of posh snobs with more money than sense, singing optimism songs all day long to boost each other's self-esteem while forgetting about those of us who live outside the walls… Oh except when they _do_ remember they come and shove _money_ down our throats for a week and then _vanish_ , congratulating themselves on their charity and generosity! Yeah, _real_ beautiful, that…" Roman wasn't entirely surprised by the vitriol in Virgil's voice. He'd suspected he wasn't from a well-to-do background, that was hardly in question, but he was saddened all the same to hear his suspicions all but confirmed.

The thing was; where Roman was from in the outlying villages beyond the forest things actually weren't so bad. They generally had steady supplies and stable lives, and while they wouldn't consider themselves wealthy by any means they also weren't overly _poor_. Plenty of trade passed through the settlements that far out, but by the sound of it that sort of income was sorely lacking in the settlements around the outside of the city. Odd, considering the amount of constant traffic in and out of the giant city, and odd considering how hard King Thomas was always said to work to keep his people well looked after. Why, Roman had never heard of him taking longer than a few _days_ to address an issue in the outlying villages and they were both further away by messenger and further away in the King's heart, he assumed (not in any mean way; it was simply logical). And yet Roman didn't doubt for a moment that Virgil was telling the truth, with his patched shirt and ruined boots, and the sharp bones so starkly visible on him. 

Virgil sighed after he was clearly silent for too long, shrugging off the atmosphere uncomfortably. "Never mind, forget I said anything alright? You'll love it I'm sure." The bandit looked down at his travelling companion, eyeing the frown on the knight's face. "Hey, Mr Hero, quit that," he nudged him with a toe, capitalising on the fact that Roman had decided to walk by his good side in order to avoid knocking his injured ankle at any point. Roman looked up in silent question, not sure what to stop doing, and the bandit twitched his nose, a tiny bit (but only a _tiny_ bit, mind) sorry to have brought the cheerful man's mood down so easily. "I'm sure it's better than what I think of it. I've never actually been, anyway."

"So we can discover it together!" Roman beamed, melancholic contemplation forgotten in an instant. Virgil was somewhat _less_ overjoyed at the prospect, but he did have to visibly fight down a small smile, rolling his eyes to distract from his battle.

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say I guess… _kidnapper_."

"Hey!"

Virgil was considerably _less_ successful in hiding the next smile, and Roman immediately dedicated himself to the task of drawing as many of them as possible from his travelling companion while they ambled onwards towards their destination.

  
  


* * *

They made it to the city within the same day, finally leaving the forest behind as the sun started to set. 

And what a sight it made. The city walls _loomed_. It really was the only word for it; the giant sandy stones sat stacked on top of each other to such dizzying heights, and shone in the sunlight in such an intimidating way, that no other word would ever do them justice. They were a relic of a time when peace was less certain; when the kingdoms of the world weren't on such good terms and the people could be in need of refuge at any time. Nowadays the heavy wooden doors were near rusted into their open position, and the guards stationed at each entrance were friendly and relaxed as they welcomed in the swarms of visitors and hardly bothered to touch their weapons (which were almost entirely ceremonial at this stage).

Roman stopped the horse for a moment in sheer awe when they finally left the forest and caught sight of the walls for the first time. He had been sat behind Virgil in the saddle for the last hour, feet sore from constant walking and no real idea how much further they had to go. They'd started by maintaining a careful distance between them, which had slowly but steadily dwindled to almost nothing as they got over their initial awkwardness, and found that conversation flowed easily; Roman's laughter and stream of exuberant storytelling mixing well with Virgil's occasional amused snorts and sarcastic comments. Had he been asked, Roman wouldn't have bothered denying that he was absolutely delighted and intrigued by his new travelling companion, despite their rocky start; Virgil was _captivating_. 

But what he _would_ deny to his dying day, was the thrill of nerves that hit him at the grand sight of the city. He hadn't even consciously tugged on the reins but his grip had tightened and drawn the horse to a stop anyway, and his eyes were wide as he stared up at what lay ahead. Virgil stiffened almost imperceptibly in front of him, but he was too distracted by the view and missed it entirely.

"What's wrong?" Virgil asked, turning round to check on the knight after he'd been frozen silent for a bit too long. Roman just shook his head, expression clearing at last as he smiled down at the other man in reassurance.

"Nothing's _wrong_ , don't worry. Just- _look at it_ ," he breathed reverently, looking back up at the towering structure.

Virgil turned his gaze back in the same direction. He sat up a bit straighter, taking the stonework in with a critical eye.. "It's… not _quite_ as ugly as I expected," he grudgingly allowed. "Still sure you want to go there?"

Roman rolled his eyes and clicked the horse back into a walk, surprised to find they'd stopped. "Of course. Where else am I going to be-"

"Be a famous and fabulous knight, yes I know," Virgil interrupted. "You _have_ mentioned it, just once or twice…"

It was nice to fall back into the banter, and Roman allowed the distraction, giving as good as he got as they drew closer to their destination.

Virgil's answers, however, grew gradually more clipped and quiet as they made their approach, and they stuttered entirely to a halt when the two were in the shadow of the wall. He shrank back against the knight's chest (which elicited a complicated mix of both delight and concern from said knight) and drew his thin cloak tight to himself as they joined the throng of people making their way to the gate to get in, wincing when his ankle was jostled a few times by impatient passers-by. After the third bump he growled softly under his breath and (eliciting an even _stronger_ mix of delight and concern) carefully turned on an angle in the circle of Roman's arms, pulling his leg over to sit half sideways and keep his injury out of the way (and avoiding looking at the people all around them in their terrifying, loud masses).

Roman watched him carefully, having to put very little effort into guiding the horse as they joined the flow of the crowd. Virgil flinched at every frequent and sudden loud noise, and his breathing was decidedly _not_ calm. The rising noise levels (how much louder could it get?!) made him hunch in on himself, until the knight took the reins in one hand and curled an arm around the ex-bandit carefully, tucking him protectively against his chest and just about covering his head and ears to muffle the world out a bit.

To say this small action made a difference would be an understatement. Virgil huffed out a relieved sob of breath that went unheard under the cacophony, pressing in close and making himself as small as he could, and Roman felt his heart twinge guiltily at putting him through this. Gosh- he hadn't even asked if Virgil wanted to come here with him! He hadn't given him a choice _at all_! And what was he going to do next?! Would he just dump the poor injured guy and race off the the castle? Would he ask Virgil to come with him? He… _he hadn't remotely thought this through_.

He wanted to stop and reconsider the plan- he had an idea forming to turn around and take Virgil back to Roman's old home where he could be cared for by the knight's mother, Talyn, and the rest of the kind villagers and not go wanting for basic needs ever again- but before he had time to act the guard at the gate had waved them on through and the noise swelled _tenfold_.

They were inside the city.

There were people _everywhere-_ market stalls, traders and wagons; richly dressed retinues and children running underfoot. The sound (and _smell_ ) of animals came from every direction he turned and the crowd just _kept on moving_ , flooding in and out of the city in constant motion. The entire place actually felt like it was _alive_.

Roman murmured a swift promise to Virgil to get them somewhere quieter and soon- feeling the ex-bandit grip his shirt tightly in what he hoped was acknowledging he'd heard- and managed to get them through the crowd that saturated the streets around the gate not a moment too soon, onto a much emptier street that seemed to head in the vague direction of the castle, but most importantly; _away_ _from the gate_. He glanced down at his companion when they were in the clear to see that Virgil was peeking out from his safe nest and looking around cautiously. He gave his charge a quick smile, clicking the horse onwards to look for lodgings. It took them a little while longer of quiet travel, with Virgil ever so slowly relaxing his iron-tight muscles and leaning more and more heavily on Roman, until finally they reached a peaceful little square with a pretty stone fountain and several shops on it. There was also, conveniently, an inn on the opposite side, and Roman nudged Virgil gently to indicate their new destination.

"It's not so busy around here," he murmured to Virgil, who looked like he was torn between wanting to die of embarrassment and wanting to cry with gratitude at the whole situation. "Look, we'll stay in there." His tone was confident and decisive, and brooked no disagreement. Not that Virgil was going to disagree with a free night in a bed, no sir. They were halfway across the square by that point anyway.

Roman disentangled a little reluctantly from Virgil and hopped down so he could offer his arms out to help the other man to the ground, mindful of his injury. The ex-bandit slid carefully off the saddle into the knight's arms, red-cheeked as he was carried to the door to brace against the wall on his good foot while Roman took the saddlebags and sent the horse off with a young stable hand. When the knight turned back he wondered what Virgil was thinking about, to make him frown the way he was now frowning, and he ached suddenly to sweep his thumb over the poor bottom lip Virgil was torturing between his teeth. But first things first- lodgings. And maybe some ale, too. It had been a long journey, after all. 

* * *

The inn was _heaven_. Roman had seen nothing but trees and slept on nothing but dirt or upright in the saddle for a _week_ , and now there were _beds_ with _sheets_ and _mattresses_ and a _bath tub_ next door with _hot water_. Hot water!

He actually moaned out loud in delight as he stuck a finger into the tub to check the temperature. Virgil had insisted the knight go first; citing the fact that Roman smelled terrible after a week's travel (not untrue, Roman thought, giving himself a tentative sniff and immediately regretting it), and that Virgil himself wanted a moment to himself to adjust to recuperate from all the... excitement (his words, not Roman's). So Roman found himself taking the first bath, quickly stripping off and sinking in, muscles singing in bliss.

The knight allowed himself a solid couple of minutes to just soak in silent peace, revelling in the soothing smell of the orange blossom candles that were burning around the room, before he sat up to wash himself thoroughly with soap and a slightly scratchy washcloth. He felt like a whole new person when he got out, and only then did he realise that he'd forgotten to bring his clean clothes into the bathroom with him. After a moment of consideration he decided a towel around the waist and a quick dart down the corridor to their room would have to do. Virgil would be in there of course, but… Roman grinned. Well it couldn't be helped if he had to slip in all steamy and half nude now, could it? 

Roman knew how he looked, and he wasn't above exploiting it.

His plan went off successfully and he slipped back into the room with minimal disturbance, spotting the other man sat in the window seat. Virgil glanced around; blinked; blushed; and turned resolutely back to his window gazing when he saw Roman's state of undress. Roman's ego (and his budding hope that Virgil wasn't entirely uninterested) swelled happily.

"Good views?" He asked, keeping his tone utterly casual as he spent far too long rummaging around for his spare clothes, keeping his back turned and hoping Virgil was looking. He pulled on his second cotton tunic and underclothes when he couldn't stall any longer, finishing dressing for the time being with the slightly too small but still wearable pair of cream riding breeches he'd packed. 

"Nothing special. It's all just city as far as you can see," Virgil replied, forced to clear his throat when he looked back for a second and saw Roman's new outfit. The knight rubbed his hair with the towel and sat down in the opposite corner of the window bench, watching his companion. "Bath is all yours," he said after a moment, intrigued by the way Virgil's pale, dirty cheeks had bloomed a promising pink. That deserved some unpicking later on. "You need help?"

Now the colour Virgil turned at _that_ was even _more_ intriguing. "Um, I- n- yes," Virgil sighed in defeat, apparently resigning himself to death by embarrassment. "I will, I think. But you-"

"No buts!" Roman declared, breaking into a chuckle when he saw the opening; "Except yours in the bath, of course. Come on." He helped lift the bandit to his feet- well, _foot_ \- and let him lean on his arm for support as they crossed the room and made their way down the corridor to where the tub waited, full of fresh hot water.

Virgil cleared his throat when they'd latched the door closed, glancing shyly at the knight. "Can you turn around?" He asked, voice slightly rough. "I- just for now?"

Without bothering to point out how difficult it would be to a) help him undress, and b) help him get into the water while turning away; Roman obliged. He investigated some of the bottles and pots on the shelf instead, sneezing when he sniffed something that probably wasn't meant to be sniffed.

He nearly turned on auto-pilot when Virgil cleared his throat, but caught himself, checking the coast was clear with a question first. "Can I look?"

"Yes," came the whisper-soft reply.

Roman turned, trying desperately not to stare too much at all the miles of pale skin suddenly on display. Gosh but Virgil really _was_ skinny, and covered in bruises and old scrapes that made Roman want to wince in sympathy and protect him from harm forever. He held the washcloth self-consciously over his crotch, eyes wide and breathing too fast as he waited for Roman to say something.

Luckily for them both Roman could hear his mother's voice in his head; telling him to be a gentleman and put the young man at ease. He stepped forwards with a soft smile instead, steadily maintaining eye contact as he took Virgil's weight (with a murmured warning before he gripped his waist that made Virgil's face soften a little in gratitude), walking the ex-bandit to the side of the tub where they stopped and considered it together.

"Um, maybe if I-"

"Perhaps it's best if-"

They stopped, both waiting for the other to continue. Then suddenly Virgil snorted, and all the tense awkwardness of the situation faded away. "Let me lift you in," Roman suggested, carrying on quickly before Virgil's instantly sour face of reaction could become a voiced argument. "Honestly it's the easiest way. Why waste all the water you'll spill when you slip trying to climb in?" The bandit wrinkled his nose but the sigh that followed after signalled his capitulation to the plan and Roman beamed in triumph. Without further ado he bent to slip an arm under Virgil's knees (ignoring the internal giddy screeching inside his mind for now) and scooped him up easily to lower into the water.

It was a whole lot less easy to ignore the way Virgil groaned when he got in however, and Roman quickly made his escape, muttering about sorting out clothes for his companion to wear when he was done. 

In his defence he _did_ end up doing that, but it took a minute of pacing around their shared room first before his blood settled in his veins and he was cool-headed enough to make the trip down to the maid downstairs. And when he'd had confirmation from the maid that he would bring some spare clothes up for the ex-bandit in the bath (and have all their dirty items washed), Roman finally took the opportunity to collapse onto his bed and close his eyes. It had been a very, _very_ long journey, and despite the excitement that came with being _so near_ to completing his life's goal while also spending time with the addictive puzzle that was Virgil; he was exhausted.

Roman fell asleep within seconds, dead to the world before he even had time to get under the covers. And so he was unaware of the creak of the door when someone slipped back inside, and didn't stir one bit when the mattress dipped a little by his hip and a drop of water slipped off a long strand of dark hair onto his cheek, hurriedly dabbed away by a soft sleeve. The weight on the mattress left then, taking up residence on the other bed moments after a blanket was laid gently over the sleeping knight, and the room fell still and silent again as both weary travellers were at last taken by a deep, dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh this one went through some changes y'all. It's also hard to tag for, jeez!! 
> 
> Warnings. If it helps you to know: Virgil jokes that he doesn't know Roman's motives and he could be planning to murder and eat him, which Roman playfully considers; Virgil hasn't had a great life until now; Roman did kinda kidnap him but I can confirm that Virgil would have definitely made it known if he wasn't okay with it; Virgil has a bit of a meltdown when forced into a huge crowd with lots of noise but doesn't get as far as a panic attack; Virgil's ankle is still injured. 
> 
> Also I would love love love a beta for this so HMU if you do that sort of thing!
> 
> Can confirm this is the longest chapter so far and can not confirm that the rest will end up this long, it just didn't feel right to cut it! We're catching up to what I have written so there may be a bit of a break soon~


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Patton go on a lovely summer walk; Virgil and Roman go on a quest for lunch; and there's nothing quite like a good fistfight for making new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence (relatively quick fist fight) and small injuries (mention of blood).

The air was peacefully breezy in the upper town, close to the castle; far removed from the chaos further out towards the walls. A few well-dressed individuals wandered here and there, including two young gentlemen with finely tailored clothes and the sort of easy confidence in their postures that came with wealth and years of deeply ingrained formal manners.

Logan had his hands clasped comfortably behind his back as they strolled, while Patton's were flying every which way as he illustrated his constant chatter with flurries of his fingers, telling Logan all about the issues of the day and some story about a pot of honey and a rosebush that Logan was gamely trying to follow, while in reality he was unable to focus on anything but the animated expressions constantly flitting over Patton's face.

"-But then I said; what about the horseflies?! And you should have seen them go scrambling to do what I'd asked and really they should have just listened the first time but-"

Logan smiled to himself. Even with the stream of storytelling filling the air it was still beautifully peaceful out. He was thoroughly enjoying being out and about in Patton's company and the fresh air, as both Patton himself and King Thomas had assured him he would. He'd only had his reservations because he knew how busy the King was and how much he enjoyed spending time with the aide, and Logan wasn't in a hurry to intrude on their friendship and steal Patton away just because the two of them had a little more daily personal freedom than Thomas did.

But Thomas had _insisted_ ; and he wouldn't go against the word of his King.

In actual fact; Logan was rather starting to like the man. He'd admired Thomas for his accomplishments and good nature for many years, but since stepping up into his new role as advisor, Logan had come to feel the same genuine fondness for the royal that Patton and frankly _all_ of the castle staff openly displayed. Admittedly Thomas was hard not to like, but it was a significant enough development for Logan that he'd succumbed, nonetheless.

"-And I'm sure you can just imagine what that trollop said next! They said to me, hear this, they said 'why don't you just come down and do it yourself then'? To me! _Me_! As if I don't have enough to do with sorting out all the millions of issues with their window-box 'arrangements'-" Patton's fingers quirked around some _very_ sarcastic quotation marks, "- every morning, they actually think I have time to come and-"

Logan's smile just kept on growing. He hoped someday to have a name for the feeling in his chest at that moment, and maybe in a few days when Patton's birthday rolled around at (it felt like _long_ -) last he would figure things out. But until then Logan was content to just enjoy their fledgling bond for what it was. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Half a city away, two different young men were racing through the quiet back streets of the kingdom's capital. Virgil was ahead, dodging round the back of a butcher's and into a small alleyway where he felt Roman's fingers just brush over his back in an attempt to catch him. Roman missed him by a whisker and had to catch his footing when the over extension of the action made him stumble forwards, and Virgil chuckled under his breath as he got away. 

Roman was forced to stop at the end of the alleyway when he couldn't see his quarry, looking around and trying to figure out which way Virgil had gone until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around, but saw nothing there, feeling very confused until there was a second tap on the top of his head. Virgil was up on a windowsill above him, his foot trailing down to reach the knight-to-be as he perched, smirking happily. Roman was- perhaps luckily- already breathless, so he just rolled his eyes at the sight instead of swooning, and jumped to pull himself up by Virgil. 

He missed twice- tunic restricting the reach of his arms that he didn't have the momentum to work past. So naturally (and because he would take any excuse to show off to this boy, if he was being honest) he just _had_ to rip the sleeves off his cotton tunic to make sure he made the third jump. 

It didn't hurt Roman's ego _at all_ when Virgil just rolled his eyes and scolded him for ruining the top when they didn't exactly have money to spare. No he was _fine_ with the way Virgil's eyes never _once_ landed on his hard-earned toned arms. And it _definitely_ wasn't disappointing when Virgil just scampered off to climb onto the roof and look at the view like _that_ was the most impressive thing he'd ever seen. See, his ego was _totally fine_. 

Actually the view was really damn good. The buildings were all as a general rule built a maximum of a couple of storeys high, so getting up onto any building almost always guaranteed you a clear view across to the massive city walls in any direction. The slope of the city itself also helped- the castle was situated strategically on the highest point and the land around it rolled gently downwards to each of the four open gates, in a general sense at least. 

Roman sat on the edge next to his companion, legs trailing down and not quite touching. He nudged the ex-bandit and smiled at him when Virgil looked over. "Big and bright and beautiful, no?" He teased, and this time he was pleased when Virgil rolled his eyes, because he could also see the twitch of his lips and hear his soft snort of amusement. 

"Sure, hero-boy. Big and bright and beautiful. It's got that on you, I guess." He pretended to think about it, tapping his chin. Roman just scoffed in offence and kicked Virgil's foot lightly in retaliation. 

"I could be big, bright and beautiful too, you know. Everyone back in my village used to think so." 

"Well maybe they were lacking in the bright department themselves, then," Virgil hit back quickly, and well, Roman just couldn't let that slide without tickling Virgil breathless for his insolence, so he didn't. 

When Virgil was entirely curled over his own lap to escape Roman's nimble fingers in his ribs, gasping for mercy, the knight-to-be finally let up, but he left his arm over Virgil's shoulders so they were pressed together as Virgil sat up. And Virgil didn't for one second look as if he minded in the least. 

Roman counted that as a win. 

* * *

They stayed until the sun passed it's peak, and then it was time to start the hunt for a late lunch. They descended as nimbly as they'd climbed up, but were content this time to amble around lazily on the ground until they spotted a destination, rather than haring off in a mad dash to beat the other to an imagined finish line. 

Over the few days they'd already spent in the city they'd silently come to agree on a few things: first; that the lower city was only to be braved when absolutely necessary because it had proven too much for Virgil to handle for longer than an hour at a time. Second; that Roman was taking a small reprieve- a holiday of sorts- and wasn't hurrying to get up to the castle to join up with the guard. Third; was that despite the odd and still-recent beginnings to their relationship they were already fiercely committed to not leaving one another behind. It mattered more to Virgil than Roman, perhaps, but without discussing it they'd refused to go anywhere separately and had come to share all of Roman's belongings fairly equally between them. The free and easy generosity had grated on Virgil's nerves at first, and he'd waited and watched for the moment when Roman would set his boundaries and demand something in return. When that moment hadn't arrived Virgil had allowed himself to simply shrug and go along with it. 

(Oh, and he'd also internally decided that as his companion _clearly_ needed someone like him around to stop him from being taken for a fool- as had nearly happened no less than _six times_ in the past four days already- he would be heretofore silently working to deserve Roman's good favour by fulfilling that role personally. It was nice to feel useful, okay?)

  
  


They wandered up a little closer towards the castle today. Roman had thus far been a little skittish about getting too close for some unnamed reason, which Virgil had respected happily because once Roman went to the guard, where would that leave him? Where would that leave _them_? But they both still shared the urge to explore their new home and the food definitely got increasingly better the further up the hill they went; so today's lunch would hopefully be worth the trek back to the inn they'd have to make later. 

It was a nice walk, at the very least. The buildings were well kept and there were flowers in pots on the streets and decorating the walls and windows. The wafting scent of various fruit from a little orchard they subsequently detoured to see had Roman humming happily as Virgil sniffed curiously at an orange. A fountain that ran clear and fast made for a great break to splash their faces (and each other) and have a sip to combat the bright sunshine of high summer. And the sounds of running feet and raised voices made- 

_Wait_. 

Virgil dragged Roman to a halt, yanking him quickly in the direction of the ruckus. It was a new development- this urge to run towards a fight instead of away- but with Roman at his side his instinct to help was always being nurtured and his flight reaction just never seemed to win out. 

Roman figured out the reason for their diversion quickly once he heard the sounds himself, and they picked up pace to see what was going on, passing through the shade between two quaint buildings to see two men being shaken down in the gap behind that served as a tiny courtyard to a little cluster of houses.

One of the men was being held on the floor. There was a fist in his shirt scrunching the pale blue silk almost up to his nose, his glasses askew on his face and hands up in supplication. The second man was being held by his hands behind his back, clearly concerned enough about the fate of the first man to be immobilised by the threat without much effort from his captor, whose grip was far from firm. The second victim's lip was bleeding and one of the lenses in his glasses was cracked. The final attacker was way too busy peacocking around smugly to notice Roman and Virgil's appearance in the alleyway but the second victim apparently did (impressive considering his broken glasses, Virgil thought privately).

He straightened up in the hold of the mugger that had him and looked at them, shoulders tensing with fear until Roman surged forwards and had the leader on the ground (with a swift kick to the back of the knee and a strong arm around his throat, waiting for the guy to pass out) which quite clearly put them on the side of the duo rather than the trio. 

Virgil wondered if Roman knew how glorious he looked when he was filled with the fire of righteous justice like that, but his wondering was quickly derailed when the upright mugger abandoned his hold on the man with the broken glasses, trying to make a break for it while he could. Virgil quickly  stepped in the way of the alleyway exit and ducked under the punch that was hastily and sloppily flung at him, letting the mugger throw himself right onto his shoulder all by himself, stopping dead with a wheezy huff and collapsing to the floor to gasp for air until Virgil pulled him up for a swift punch to knock him out for the time being.

The second victim, now freed, had hurried to his friend's aid and shoved the other mugger away. The mugger- who was now circling Roman with a mix of fury and trepidation- could see that his friends were both on the floor and the only exit was past both Roman _and_ Virgil, so it was clear he would have to fight his way out or surrender. Virgil, personally, hoped he'd just surrender so they could leave and not waste any more time, but he knew the moment the mugger decided to fight because his eyes narrowed just a little, and Virgil had _seen_ _that tell before_. 

"Roman!" He yelled, which irritatingly only resulted in Roman turning to check on him and getting whacked in the chest, rather than serving as the warning it was meant to be. _Shit_. Virgil raced forwards, slipping past Roman as the would-be knight staggered, throwing himself at the mugger. They fell heavily to the ground and wrestled for the upper hand- Virgil fought dirty like he'd been taught, biting and kneeing and elbowing and kicking and going for the eyes when he could, until Roman joined the fray and managed to lay the guy out with a single well-aimed fist. 

The courtyard quietened abruptly, and Virgil and Roman panted for a moment before sharing twin wild grins. As unexpected as it had been, it had been almost a _fun_ fight. And they'd won, which only helped. 

"Excuse me?" Came a voice. The two (very fancy looking) men were stood watching them uncertainly, the one in the pale blue shirt shakily pushing his glasses back into place as the second man held him protectively close. "Are you two alright?" 

"We're good, sir," Roman replied after a second, standing up and pulling Virgil up by the elbow too, brushing himself down. "Are you?"

"Oh, yes! Thanks to you! I um, I'm very grateful, that was _so_ _scary_!"

"Are you in need of medical assistance?" The second man added, looking them up and down. Virgil squirmed at the feeling of being judged so clinically by someone so clearly well above him, even if it was just to check on their well-being. He could only guess what the other man must be thinking about them with their plain clothes and willingness to wade into a physical fight... His chin lifted defensively on instinct at the train of thought, but Roman's hand landed on his shoulder and he soon relaxed again. 

"I think we're good, thanks. Did they take anything from you? It looked like a mugging." 

"Yeah, I mean _no_ , they didn't, but yes it was. I can't believe _anyone_ in the city would just- _why_ would they need to- it's so-!" The man in light blue was clearly a little overwhelmed by the situation and turned his head into the other man's chest for reassurance, and the second man patted his back slowly in reassurance. 

"We had not yet arrived at the stage where they retrieved our possessions, thankfully," the second man said with a short nod. "But we should alert someone before they come to and become a nuisance, don't you think?" 

Virgil went to reply but Roman's hand squeezed gently and Virgil let him speak instead. "If you'd like, certainly. But we can't leave them all here alone until then unless you have restraints of some kind. Do you?" 

The two men looked at each other and shook their heads simultaneously. 

"Then I think you'd better just get out of here for now and report it quickly, and I'll stay and keep an eye on them," Roman suggested, sounding confident and firm, and Virgil looked at him with a growing admiration, impressed. That was his hero alright, taking the lead even in the presence of two very fancy individuals. 

_Huh_. Weird thought there, brain. 

Roman was still coordinating things when he blinked back to the conversation- hurriedly tabling _that_ internal discussion for later- and his hand was still on Virgil's shoulder, which was nice. Virgil reached up to squeeze it, moving away with a swift smile to show that he was fine when Roman inevitably glanced at him to check. He went to check on the guy he'd felled, and take up position guarding the exit of the courtyard for the time being. The two fancy men left a moment or so later, passing him with two murmurs of thanks and one shaky smile from the man in the light blue shirt. Virgil hoped he was okay- he seemed like the sort who would take something like this _very_ personally. 

Roman joined him, leaning up against the wall and casting him a lopsided smile as the adrenaline wore off. "So, now we just hang around here for a bit and keep an eye on these miscreants. Guess lunch is gonna be a bit late today, huh?"

Virgil snorted. "I guess so..." he replied, and they settled in to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots was changed about this chapter, and I'm pretty happy with where it is now! There is a next chapter being drafted but the uploads for this will be slow and sporadic because consistency who I don't know her. 
> 
> Any questions feel free to ask me on tumblr, same username (magpiemorality)!

**Author's Note:**

> Find the animatic that inspired this fic here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wNqneoesKvw 
> 
> -Magpie


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